Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Ross stilled for a beat, his heart cracking wide open all over again. This was his Jonah—the boy he’d loved, the man he still loved. Always thinking of him, always willing to sacrifice. His throat burned with emotion. He kissed the side of Jonah’s head, whispering fiercely, “You’d do that for me?”
“I know how important your mother is to you, and if you still want me, then I’ll—”
“Christ, that’s why I could never love anyone else. Because no one loves like you do.”
“I’ve never loved anyone else because no one can make me feel as good as you do.”
Ross slid his hand lower. He needed to make his Bear feel everything he was feeling in that moment…times ten.
He braced Jonah with one arm, keeping him tight against him, the other trailing down so he could wrap his fist around Jonah’s cock.
Jonah jerked in his arms, his dick already stiff and leaking.
“That’s it,” Ross groaned, grinding his own cock harder against the swell of Jonah’s ass as he stroked him with long, steady pulls. “Let me remind you how good it feels when it’s just us.”
The water pelted their shoulders, steam rising, as Jonah’s soft whimpers broke into needy moans.
Ross rocked faster—he couldn’t help it—slipping and sliding, stroking him in time with his thrusts.
“So fuckin’ sweet. I can’t wait to be inside you again, Bear. Been dreaming about it for years.” His words were half-growl, half-groan as he nipped against the shell of Jonah’s ear.
Jonah braced one hand on the tiles, the other came back to clutch Ross’s thigh, his whole body shaking.
Ross stroked harder, grinding deeper, until their cries echoed off the walls.
Jonah came first, his release hot and wet over Ross’s hand, trembling as if it were their first time all over again. Ross followed immediately, grinding out his orgasm against Jonah’s back with a hoarse shout, muscles straining as he spilled between them.
He sagged against Jonah, chest heaving, arms still locked tight around him. He pressed gentle kisses into the crook of his neck, over his wet hair, and down the slope of his shoulder.
“Mmm, my sweet teddy bear,” he whispered.
They stood there a long time, catching their breath under the hot water, bodies sated, souls still reeling from being reunited.
Ross reached past him to turn off the water.
“Get dressed, handsome,” he murmured, brushing a gentle kiss against Jonah’s wet temple. “I’m taking you to lunch. We’ll eat, talk, and figure out the rest. Together.”
Jonah smiled up at him, eyes wet, cheeks pink.
He’d never seen anything more perfect.
Jonah
Their footsteps echoed on the marble floor in the cavernous foyer.
Jonah was still buzzing with post-orgasmic bliss as Ross kept his hand pressed comfortingly against the small of his back.
It was a safety he hadn’t felt in years.
They were almost to the door when Thorn emerged from the side hall leading to the east quarters of the mansion.
Unlike him…he wasn’t smiling.
This wasn’t the gracious host of Belladonna, not the patient mender of hearts Jonah had come to know.
He stood there with a black file folder clutched in his hands, his gaze razor-sharp on where he and Ross were connected.
“Mr. Matthews,” Thorn said, his tone so stern that Jonah’s warm and cozy feeling grew cold. “Can I see you and your gentleman in my office?”
Ross bristled. “Can it wait?”
Jonah swallowed.
Thorn’s eyes narrowed. “No. Now.”
The finality in that word left no room for argument. Jonah’s suspicion tangled with dread as he followed Ross down the hall.
Every step felt as if he were walking over quicksand.
Thorn’s office door clicked shut behind them with a sound that felt too much like a lock turning. The room was dimmer than usual, shadows pooling in the corners, darker than the man standing near the window.
Tall. Broad. Trench coat sweeping his boots. His fedora shielded half his face, and while Jonah couldn’t see his eyes, he could still feel the weight of them—cold, unblinking, the kind that saw all. He was like a character from a black-and-white film.
As if Ross could sense his unease, he wrapped his arm around his shoulders.
Thorn didn’t bother with pleasantries. He stormed behind his desk and slammed the file on top of it.
Jonah flinched as if it’d been a gunshot.
“Why have you deceived me?”
The words cracked through Jonah’s chest, leaving him frozen. His stomach bottomed out. Thorn knew. Somehow, he knew.
Ross slid in front of him instantly, shielding him with his body.
“We never lied about anything,” Ross said firmly. “Neither of us.”
Thorn’s eyes burned, a rare blaze of fury in a man usually so controlled. He stabbed a finger at the man in the trench coat.
“That’s Mr. Kavanaugh, my lead investigator. He digs until there’s nothing left hidden. And he tells me truths that my own residents should have told me first.”
Jonah’s throat worked, but no sound came out.
“We never lied,” Ross gritted.
“Omission of the truth,” Thorn said coldly, “is still a lie, Arnold Williams. That is the name you gave me, yes?”